


Once Upon a Time in Derry

by FernDaphnia



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fairy Tale Curses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:55:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22807453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FernDaphnia/pseuds/FernDaphnia
Summary: A girl claiming to be his daughter turns up on Richie's doorstep on his 30th birthday and tricks him into returning to Derry to break a curse.Once Upon a Time inspired AU fic for the It Fandom Prompt Week's 'Fairy Tale AU' prompt.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 56





	Once Upon a Time in Derry

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, I read 'fairy tale' and my mind immediately went to Once Upon a Time. It's inspired by the premise and the pilot but with a significant amount changed from both properties to fit the set-up. The Losers are 30 in this and were 20 when the curse hit, Pennywise doesn't work to the same cycle as in the books and movies. None of the characters bar Harry/Henry are straight inserts so Richie doesn't have magic, Pennywise isn't Regina etc etc.

His apartment in Boston is comfortably far enough away from New York that he could escape for a few days to wallow in self-pity uninterrupted. Richie doesn’t know what it is about his birthday but he hates the day, hates the idea of anyone acknowledging it or, worse, being forced to himself.

So he hides in another city to avoid his friends and staff, the few that have known him long enough to know what the date is. He doesn’t leave the apartment, the closest he gets is opening the door to accept the takeaway delivery. His plans otherwise mostly involve getting so drunk that he’ll pass out, a neat row of spirits already laid out on his counter, just waiting for the first to be picked off.

He unscrews the first bottle his hand reaches, pouring a healthy amount into the already oversized glass when the doorbell startles him.

He sets the glass down at the side table by the door and cracks the door open, seeing no-one when he peers out.

“Are you Richie Tozier?” a small voice asks and he realises that there is someone standing there, just someone significantly below his eye-level.

“Uh, yeah?” He should probably sound more sure of that answer but there’s a kid standing at his door. _Why the fuck is there a kid standing at his door?_ “Who are you?”

“My name’s Harriet. I’m your daughter.”

He laughs and grips onto the doorframe as he leans outside, expecting to see a familiar face hiding around a corner, egging this young girl on to get a good one past Richie on his birthday. The corridor is empty.

He turns back to the child, “I don’t know who put you up to this but-“

“You’re from Derry, right?” she interrupts, her large backpack hitting his leg as she shuffles past him, walking over to his fridge and cracking it open, “Hey, do you have any juice?

“No?” He doesn’t know which question he’s answering. He feels off balance and somewhat like he’s being tested, unsure how to reclaim any control over the situation which now involves a child he doesn’t know raiding his fridge. He needs to get her out and fast, too aware of how this could look if the media got wind of it. “Look kid, don’t you have parents or something that’ll be worried about you?”

She ignores the question, glass of orange juice now in hand sitting on one of his dining stools, “Don’t you think it’s weird that you don’t remember anything before you were twenty?”

He flounders again, _how the hell could the kid know that?_

“We should get going, I want you to come home with me,” she hops off the stool and takes her empty glass to the sink, standing on her tip-toes to rinse it out.

“Why the hell would I do that?” he’s had enough, someone else can deal with this. Ideally the police.

She watches him begin to punch the numbers into his cell. “If you call the cops, I’ll tell them you kidnapped me.”

“What the fuck?” The kid plays dirty but he hangs up regardless, not willing to take the risk that she’s not bluffing.

“Just help me get home and you never have to see me again.”

Well that’s an offer he can’t refuse. “Where’s home?” he grabs his keys from the side table and goes back to get a jacket too. If he’s going to be driving into the early hours of the morning he’s at least going to do it warm.

She hops down from the chair and follows him to the door, “it’s Derry, Maine.”

He sighs, of course it’s somewhere he’s never heard of.

-

They’ve already been driving for an hour, radio turned to an 80s station to provide a distraction, when he notices the ridiculously oversized book that the girl’s holding.

“What’s that?”

“I don’t think you’re ready.”

Richie shoots her a quick glance, careful not to take his eyes off the road for too long, “for a book?”

“It’s more than just a book,” she grasps it to her chest almost protectively.

“So there’s a movie adaptation too?”

-

He pulls into the kerb under the shadow of a clock tower. It’s not tall by New York standards, not even by Boston standards, but it stands out against the darkened outlines of the other buildings in town.

He hates small towns, hates the restrictions both physical and moral. He can’t remember the one he grew up in, can’t even remember the name but the distaste is deeply seated, the instinctual caution even more so. He knows what happens to people like him in towns like this.

“Ok, we’re here. What’s the address?” He slams his door as he gets out.

“44 not-telling-you Street.”

This is ridiculous, and far too late for it to continue. He glances back to the clock to check the damage.

“That clock hasn’t moved my whole life, time’s frozen here.” Harry supplies, watching his every move. “Pennywise did it with his curse, everyone’s frozen here, trapped. They don’t remember anything.”

“A curse?”

“Yeah, it’s all in my book.”

“Of course it is.” He looks around for another person, any sign of life that might help him get the kid home and, more importantly, get the hell out of here but the streets are empty and eerily quiet. There are no cars distantly zooming by on the surrounding roads or sounds wafting out from the nearby buildings. What few lights are on don’t flicker or show any passing shadows. It all feels very artificial.

“We really need to get you home,” he moves towards the car again, hoping that Harry will finally take the hint.

“Please don’t take me back there.”

“Kid, if there’s something bad happening at home you need to speak to someone you can trust, like a teacher or the cops. Not a stand-up comedian that you found online.”

She shakes her head vehemently, in the way only a child can, “I can’t tell them! They’re all under the curse, none of them believe me. I’ve tried.” Her eyes are welling up, “but you’re my Dad! I know you don’t remember, but that’s the curse. None of you remember who you really are, but you will, I know it.”

“Kid…” Richie doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to comfort an adult on the best of days let alone a child.

Harry sighs, shoulders slumped as she turns back to the car, “it’s the Mayor’s house, just off the end of this street.”

“Fuck, you’re the mayor’s kid?” he exclaims, opening the passenger door and ushering Harry inside.

He drives the few blocks, turning off as the few shops begin to peter out. He lets Harry out outside of a large set of gates and a winding driveway and sits and waits until he sees that she’s safely let into the house.

-

It’s late. Late enough that he should be finding somewhere to crash for the night and far too late to be driving back to New York. But he’s also had enough to this town so get’s back behind the wheel despite the utter exhaustion that he’s feeling.

He’s approaching the town limits, driving over a wooden bridge covered in graffiti when a book on the floor of the passenger’s seat catches his eye. _That little sh-_

He looks back up and swears he sees a wall of red balloons but the car is spinning, wheel racing out of his control, and his car hits the bridge wall, the airbag inflating on impact.

“Fuck!” He attempts to push the airbag away and struggles to reach around it to open the car door, squeezing himself out. He assesses the damage but it’s clear the front is ruined, the hood of the car crunched up against the barrier it now rests against.

He pulls out his phone to call for roadside assistance but is met with a dull tone when he presses call

He trudges back to the sole townhouse he had spotted earlier, resigned to not escaping Derry that evening.

-

There’s no-one at the front desk in the morning and his phone still has no signal so he’s forced to set out into Derry on foot to look for an auto repair shop.

What he finds instead is Harriet sitting by the banks of the Kenduskeag, not far from the main street of the town. She’s alone, no-one else even in the vicinity, and she looks far more troubled than any child her age should, her brow drawn deep in thought.

It’s early, far too early for a child to be wandering the streets alone and he wonders again what kind of parents she must have that she’s so free to go out on her own or run away out of state. He approaches slowly, careful to be in her line of sight before he sits down beside her so as not to startle her.

She brightens considerably upon seeing him and pulls herself to her feet to join him, wrapping his waist in a hug, “Richie! I knew you wouldn’t leave.”

“I think you forgot this,” he says handing back the book. He doesn’t have the heart to break it to her that the reprieve is only temporary and stands awkwardly until she lets him go. “What are you doing out so early?” he asks instead.

She smiles warmly and he’s struck by just how quickly her mood has flipped, how easily she seems to be able to build herself back up. “Waiting for you,” she says as if that should be obvious. “C’mon, we need to go meet Pa,” she grabs his hand leading him down the street to an old industrial building which had been renovated into a hospital once it had outlived its original usage.

“Hi, Dr Kaspbrak!” she trills, walking straight into his office as if she owns the place. Richie shoots the receptionist an apologetic look as he is dragged past into the room.

“I thought your dad was the Mayor?” he asks her.

“No, you and Eddie are my real Dad and Pa. Mr Gray’s just pretending to be as part of the curse.”

Richie looks completely bewildered. _Fuck, this kid has a ton of issues._ A ton of issues which have nothing to do with him.

He looks up to see the Dr Kaspbrak looking at him as if he’s a puzzle he has to solve. He holds up his hands and takes a step back, “Dude, I’m not-“ He can’t even bring himself to say the word.

Eddie just rolls his eyes and walks across to Harriet, bending down so that’s he’s at her eye level. “Harry, we talked about this, remember? You’re a great kid but I’m not your father. I’ve never had a child. I know Mr Gray can be a little strict but he cares about you, you know that, right?”

Harriet shakes her head fiercely, “he doesn’t! He doesn’t care about me! He’s only pretending to keep you apart and keep Dad from coming back to Derry!”

She reaches down under the examination bed to retrieve her backpack, and pulls out a large, ornate book - the same one she was reading on the drive back to Derry. “It’s all in this book Ms Marsh gave me.” She flicks through the pages, carefully thumbing at the corners until she comes to the ones she was looking for.

She holds the illustration up for them to see, two men - who admittedly do vaguely resemble Richie and Eddie, as much as the generic sketches can resemble anyone - each with a hand grasping the handle of a baby’s wicker basket, against a backdrop of ominous dark purple clouds.

She flips the book back over once she is assured they have both seen it and begins reading from the opposite page, “ _...and as Eddie passed the basket containing the infant across the town line, Mike’s voice rang out, “it’s not working!”_

 _Beverly ran towards them, the clouds of the curse following closely in her wake, “there’s not enough time!”_ ”

There’s a sudden knock at the door. The book is slammed shut and quickly hidden under the pillows, it’s not subtle but the nurse who enters pays it no notice.

“Dr Kaspbrak, your wife’s on the line.”

Richie swears he hears the other man curse under his breath, “Sorry, Harry, you know how Myra is. It was good to meet you…?” he trails off, looking at Richie expectantly.

“Richie,” he’s surprised when Eddie gives a light laugh at his name.

“Really sticking to that book, huh, Harry?” he says as he guides them both out of his office.

-

They walk back out and as Richie turns to make his exit the site of Harry’s quivering lips stops him. He walks beside her, not knowing where they are going but not willing to leave her on her own the way everyone else has.

They end up further down the river bank, Harry only stopping at the sight of a play park. She hoists herself up the ladder of the jungle gym and hugs her knees to her chest.

“I thought it’d be different,” she eventually whispers, not making eye contact with Richie.

“What would?” Richie settles against the metal frame of some monkey bars, leaning against the top rung.

“I thought I’d bring you back and it’d change things, that you and Pa would recognise each other and things would be better, we’d be a proper family. I guess I was wrong."

He runs his hands down the front of his jeans, his hands catching on the rough texture. He tries to focus on that and not what he’s about to say. “Kid, no one even knows I’m gay. I’m sorry but I’m not your father, pretty sure I’d remember if I’d had a kid with another man.” 

“But that’s due to the curse! They all knew, Bev, Stan, Ben, Bill and Mike, and they all loved you and Pa anyway. They all tried to get us somewhere safe where Pennywise couldn’t get us.”

Richie doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Of course a world that accepting would only exist in a kid’s fairy tale.

“The real world’s not like that, ok? Do you know how many times I got called a fag growing up? Huh? How many times I’ve had to make up stories about women I’m dating just to keep up the facade? It’s not some fucking fantasy world where everyone gets to be happy.”

 _Shit. Shit, shit, shit._ He’s yelling at a child he’s only just met, in a play park of all places. This has crossed more lines than he dares to count.

But Harriet just walks over to him and takes his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’ll be ok, Da- Richie. You’ll see, “ she says with more self-assurance than Richie has felt in his thirty years of living.

He allows himself to lean back against the railing and takes his glasses off, squeezing his eyes shut to stave off the tears. He stays like that, one hand still being held by Harriet’s tiny hand as he focuses on the sound of the nearby river until he feels like he has his emotions under control.

-

He finds an auto-shop that afternoon and, after confirming his car can be retrieved and fixed up by morning he decides to call it a day on Derry and turn in for the day so that he can flee at the first opportunity the next day.

He stumbles upon a literal hole-in-the-wall of a bar as he trudges back to the inn, the lure of chasing away his emotions with the first thing he spots on the shelf winning out over doing it with sleep.

Like most of Derry, the Falcon is sparsely populated with only a few patrons dotted around the tables and bar, none of them interacting with one another. He opts for a seat at the bar - better to be closer to the alcohol - but only realises as he lowers himself onto the bar stool that the person sitting at the other end is one Eddie Kaspbrak.

They make eye contact and it’s too late for him to duck into a dark corner so he musters his courage and moves along to the stool beside him.

“Harry back at home?” Eddie asks as he waves down the barman for Richie to order.

“Yeah, after doubling down on us all being cartoon characters in her book. What the fuck is up with that?” He gratefully receives the pint when it’s slid across to him.

Eddie grimaces, “Bev meant well, she thought the book might cheer her up but I don’t think she actually read it first.”

“Bev?” Richie asks, vaguely recalling Harry mentioning that name earlier too.

“She runs the dress shop on Main. Also a featured character in the book.”

“Right,” Richie responds, raking his brain for any of the other details Harry has mentioned. “Pennywise?”

“Shape-shifting alien,” Eddies says with a straight face, “also Bob Gray.”

Richie chokes on his beer and hastily attempts to regain his composure but mostly fails, coughing as he tries to clear the irritation in his throat. _Who the fuck thought this book was appropriate for a kid?_

“Can’t you just gently break it to her that it’s all bullshit? That two dudes can't have a kid?” 

“How exactly am I meant to do that?” there’s a hint of confrontation in Eddie’s voice but Richie’s beyond caring.

“I don’t know! You’re a fucking Doctor, you explain to her how babies are made!”

“She’s not stupid, dickwad. She’s a smart kid. All the more evidence that she’s in no way related to you,” Eddie fires back.

“I’m not the one encouraging her to think fucking fairy tales are real!” His arms are waving expressively at his side and his voice is inching upwards, a few heads turn to look including the barman. He lowers his arms and repositions himself on the stool, reaching for his glass as if the contents may contain some kind of escape.

A silence settles once again over the bar, slowly engulfing the forms within it. It’s unnatural, too still, as if everything is paused and waiting for Richie to put another quarter in the slot.

He’s surprised when Eddie breaks it to clarify “just so you know, she’s adopted. In the book, I mean.”

Richie bursts out laughing, drawing stares yet again. Eddie hides a smile behind his glass.

They sit in companionable silence, the tension broken. 

“Let her down gently, ok? Bob Gray’s fucking scary, man. It can’t be easy living with him and I think this whole fantasy is keeping her going.”

“He’s not hurting her, is he?” Richie asks.

“No. Nothing that I’ve seen and I see her regularly. Not physically, anyway...” Eddie trails off and takes a long drink of his beer, trying to chase the thought away.

Richie downs what’s left of his own pint and gets up from his chair, “Keep an eye on her for me? I know I don’t know her, fuck this is stupid, but she shouldn’t be so alone all the time.”

Eddie gives a small nod, “yeah, of course, man. Harry’s like family, I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”

Richie looks reassured by that. He shrugs back on his jacket and heads for the door, only stopping to give Eddie a few pats on the arm, “thanks, Eds.”

“My name isn’t-“ Eddie automatically responds but Richie is already out of earshot.

-

He wakes up early, showers and heads downstairs to have breakfast, once again the only person in the lounge. It’s quiet, too quiet, so he eats quickly and goes to wait besides the front desk to check out. He rings the bell but is still not acknowledge so he leans over the counter, trying to look through the doorway into the backroom. “Hello?”

“Mr Tozier, leaving so soon?” Richie jumps at the voice too close behind him, turning around to find an imposing figure blocking the door to the townhouse. He ignores the urge to take a few steps back, or to run away altogether. He doesn’t know what it is about the man but just his presence sets him on edge.

The man creeps closer, “Bob Gray, I’m the Mayor of Derry. I believe you know my daughter?” There’s a hand sticking out in his direction, an obvious power play, and it grips his too tightly when he reaches out in response. It feels as though he’s agreeing to a contract that he hasn’t seen.

“You know what, I actually need to do some writing so I might hang around for few days. It’s a nice change of scene from New York and it couldn’t hurt to be somewhere more...” he’s not sure that saying how fucking unnerving he finds the whole town to be is a good idea here so he settles instead on “quaint.”

He has no idea why he said that, his every intention of getting the hell out of dodge suddenly ignored because leaving feels like admitting defeat. He has no clue why, has no stake in any of this but part of him knows that his mind is made up.

He doesn’t know the kid - and she sure as hell isn’t his - but there is something so achingly familiar about her attempts to escape her own reality by making up stories, even if he never was quite as committed. He knows all too well the damage an, at best, inattentive parent can do, the scars it can leave when you’re left to fend for yourself at a young age.

Bob grins at him, grins so broadly that his teeth are on display. Richie wonders if this is how prey feels in the seconds before being engulfed by a lion’s jaw. He wants to run but one quick flash of Harry sitting dejectedly by the river the day before convinces him that he’s doing the right thing. 

“Welcome to Derry, Richie.”

-

Across the town, Harriet stares out of her bedroom window at the town clock, as she does every night. Only this time, for the first time ever, the hand _moves_.


End file.
